


It’s True; I Saw It On Instagram

by stick2theplan



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-28 11:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stick2theplan/pseuds/stick2theplan
Summary: Sara, 21, is spending her final summer break on a whirlwind tour across Europe.Nyssa, 23, just so happens to be in Munich on business when Sara’s tour is passing through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of recent, promising events, I give you this.

Soaked and seething in the ladies room was how Sara Lance’s friends found her. The door swung open, Sara hesitated, wad of paper towels in hand, and Avery stopped so abruptly that Tal nearly slammed into her. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Sara,” Avery cried. “What happened?”

As she continued to pat down the front of her shirt, Sara scowled. “What happened is a jackass who forgot which meaty fist was holding the stein when he tried to put his arm around me.” 

“Ugh, boys,” Tal huffed, tossing her long, black hair over one spray-tanned shoulder. She headed for the paper towel dispenser to start a wad of her own. 

Avery pouted sympathetically. “It was such a cute outfit, too.”

“I know,” Sara whined, extending her arms and flapping the billowy sleeves of her white, linen shirt. “I looked like a pirate.” 

“Now you look even more like a pirate.”

Sara jumped about three feet, and the wad-filled fist flew to her heart. “Fuck, Laur! Where the hell did you come from?” 

“Laurie,” Tal said, bordering on exasperated, as she often was, “you could’ve warned us about how…sticky this place is. And aggressive. There’ve been steins coming at me from all directions all night.” 

Reaching for the sink faucet, Laurie looked over her shoulder at them with the wary guilt that always appeared in the face of job-related criticism. “I didn’t think of it.”

“You should have done,” Avery declared, sweeping her bleach-blonde waves into a bun. “I wouldn’t let my cat piss in here. Look at poor Sara.”

Sara felt a twinge of empathy; Laurie was actually an awesome trip leader, but she took complaints so personally. “Don’t sweat it, Laur,” she intervened. “I’m sure we’ll live. More importantly, what’s going on with you and that Topdeck trip leader?”

At that, Laurie rolled her eyes. “He’s a friend, and we sometimes bump into each other while leading trips across Europe.” She shook her hands out over the sink, examined the three girls and their mass of paper towels, and wiped her hands on her skirt. “You can ask as many times as you want. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Debatable,” countered a new voice. “Last time, you said, “we’re friends.” Now we at least know you’re straight; Sara never specified which leader she was referring to.” A skinny guy in ripped black jeans and a band tee leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Sorry, short stuff.” 

“The girl’s hot, too,” Sara noted casually in agreement. 

Her comment was somewhat drowned out by Laurie laughingly protesting, “Kyle! You can’t be in here!” 

Sara snorted. “I don’t think we’ve got to worry about Kyle looking up any skirts. Right?”

“True. Vaginas are gross.”

“Eh. What brings you to our powwow, cutie?” 

Kyle winked, gestured at her, and replied, “Checking on our resident people magnet.”

Avery dumped her paper towels in the bin and questioned, “People magnet?”

“Well, I would say stud magnet, but, let’s be real, that face is a real panty-dropper, too.”

“Yeah,” Sara drawled sarcastically, “‘cause I’m swimmin’ in tang.”

“The way that bartender was eyeing you, I’d say that’s a _choice_.”

“It’s totally not a—wait, what? Fuck—what?!”

Ignoring Sara’s goldfish impersonation, he went on, “You all disappeared on me, and I wasn’t about to be stranded with those grown men in their ridiculous costumes.”

An indignant sound escaped Laurie, and she looked down at her own “cultural attire” with a pout. Avery giggled and Tal shrugged apologetically. 

Kyle waved it off with, “You look adorable in your durnd-a-whatever. They look like a creepy overalls version of Tom Hanks in Big.”

“Hey!” Sara yelped. “Can we get back to the bartender thing? Was it the hot one? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you noticed,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “She wasn’t exactly being subtle.”

“ _Kyle_ ,” she whined. 

The door swung open, and Kyle leapt out of the way to avoid being hit. A tall, thirty year-old woman with perfect, bronze skin and high cheekbones breezed in and then stopped short. “Oh!” she said, “is the whole bus in here?” 

“Elliot!” Sara cheered. 

Elliot grinned back. “Hello, lovely. What are you doing in here? I would’ve expected you to be milking that pretty bartender for free drinks.” Kyle flicked his wrist as if to say, “see?”

“Am I the only one who didn’t notice?” Sara groaned. 

“I thought she was flirting with the guy next to you.” Tal shrugged. “I think he thought so, too. Explains why she looked annoyed when he put a tip directly into her apron pocket.”

“Oh, wow,” Avery sighed. “I hate it when they do that.”

“Also thought you were straight,” Tal continued, “so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Kyle whispered with a grimace. If Sara wasn’t already two steins in, she might’ve cared a little more, but she just shrugged and waved him off. She was #proud. 

“I didn’t know, either,” Avery noted. 

Giving in to the need for some sort of explanation, Sara replied, “It’s less classified and more don’t ask, don’t tell. And that joke was wasted on all you foreigners.”

“We’re not in America,” Avery scoffed in her thick Geordie accent. 

“Point is,” Sara carried on, “I’m bi, but I don’t want _everyone_ to know. Feel like it could turn into a thing, and I don’t want that. Back to what’s important—are you sure it was the hot bartender? Not that I don’t trust your assessment of women, Kyle, but…”

“The brunette,” Elliot clarified, looking at the others for backup as she said, “I think she was attractive.”

Avery agreed, “Stunnin’.”

“I never notice _anything_ ,” Laurie noted honestly. 

Brushing the last of the paper towel pulp off her pants, Sara deadpanned, “Really, Laur? I sorta thought, the other night when I needed saving from Ryan, you were ignoring me on purpose.” 

Laurie’s eyes went wide, but, before she could voice her objections, Tal cut in, “Before or after you hooked up with him?”

“After. And he seems to be the only one who doesn’t realize that was a mistake and _won’t_ be happening again.”

Elliot shook her head. “Maybe I should come out more often.”

Sara clasped her hands together and pleaded, “Yes, please! I need my trip mom.”

Feeling left out, Laurie objected, “How come I’m not the trip mom?” 

“You abandoned my baby to that boy’s bad influence. Twice now,” Elliot said, laying it on thick and stroking Sara’s hair off her face like a real concerned mother. 

Kyle scoffed and added, “And there was the time you watched me fall on my face on the cobblestones, laughed, and ran away.” 

“I was drunk!” Laurie excused weakly. 

“So was I,” Tal said flatly. “But _I_ carried him back to the hotel.”

“You’re not the mom type, Laur,” Sara concluded. “And you’re only a few years older than me, so it’d be weird. You have other strengths.” 

Folding her arms across her chest, Laurie huffed, “Like what?”

“Have we mentioned you’re adorable?” Kyle responded, teasingly placating. 

“Adorable is just a nice way of saying not sexy,” Laurie sighed, pout firmly in place. She really was adorable, but her petite frame, protruding lower lip, petulant posture, and brightly-colored costume-y dirndl created a definite childishness that didn’t help anyone’s case to the contrary sound convincing. After attempts by the others, she turned to Sara, who held her hands up and shook her head emphatically. 

“Hell no. Don’t look at me like that. Listen to them. I’m not gonna fuck up our friendship, so don’t ask—”

“Come on, Sara. Do you think I’m sexy?”

“—that.” Sara sighed. “Don’t ask that.”

If possible, Laurie’s pout deepened. “I won’t take it personally.”

With a snort of disbelief, Sara shot back, “It’s a personal question!”

Elliot intervened, “Ok, I actually did come in here to wee. You all should probably head back out there, anyway, especially you, Laurie. The boys were getting very rowdy.” 

Laurie immediately left to do damage control. 

“Sara, your “father” and I are leaving soon. I’ll check in with you before we do and maybe get you a taxi, alright?”

The time in the bathroom had sobered Sara up a little, and her energy was flagging, but she lit up with a bright grin and declared, “Well, it sounds like I might have prospects, so…”

“I didn’t say the taxi had to take you to the hotel,” Elliot replied cheekily. 

But, when they got back into the hall, the female bartender was nowhere to be seen. While Sara sulked, Tal had to fend off the advances of a guy from one of the other tour groups they kept bumping into. Eventually, Avery and Kyle put themselves in the way as physical barriers while Sara told him off. 

“Is that what it’s like for you all the time?” Tal asked.

Sara sighed for what must’ve been the umpteenth time that day. “Its starting to sound like, “woe is me, people find me attractive,” but, _seriously_.” 

Avery frowned. “Is it not like this in America?”

“I think Europeans understand the word no—or lack of interest—even less than Americans,” she decided. “I need another beer. How ‘bout you guys?” On her way up from their table, Sara bumped into Elliot, who offered her a seat in her and John’s cab back to the hotel. By the time she’d wedged herself through the crowd and secured a space at the bar, Sara regretted turning down the offer. The bartender was still MIA, and an early night wouldn’t kill her. At that point, it was obvious she wouldn’t miss anything worthwhile. 

And then, as if to add insult to injury, Jan appeared at her elbow. 

Not that Sara had anything specific against Jan—just a general feeling of unease. With her haircut, wardrobe, “tough-guy” attitude, and bluntness, Jan wore her sexuality on her sleeve, unlike Sara, who was still pretty new to the LGBTQ community (and wasn’t sure how one would project bisexuality, anyway). 

Having been raised by a professor, Sara had a strong preference for and attraction to intelligence and ambition, and neither of those qualities applied to Jan. She wanted to just tell the woman she wasn’t interested and get that out of the way, but she’d been burned recently by a girl at school who attacked her for “assuming friendliness was a come on,” so she was reluctant to relive that embarrassment. 

“This place is dope, innit?” Jan asked, bumping against Sara’s shoulder. 

Suppressing a scowl—her mood had really tanked that night—Sara hummed noncommittally. She really wasn’t in the mood to humor anyone. 

“What are you getting?”

“Beer for my friends,” Sara said curtly, reciprocating the question a beat too late to seem genuine and not listening at all to the response. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Uh, sure,” Sara agreed, attempting amicability. 

“How come sometimes you’re really nice and sometimes you’re a cunt?” 

Wide-eyed, she spluttered, “A c—what? But I…what?”

Before this trip, Sara could’ve counted on one hand the number of times she’d heard that word said aloud, and almost none of those had been actual, contextual usage. It was the most derogatory slur she knew for a woman, and not even her cruelest high school bullies had used it. At least not to her face. Being branded with it now cut through her like Cutco. 

Jan, oblivious to her destress, continued, “Is it because I’m gay?”

Oh, this was going from bad to worse, and Sara scrambled for a hopefully adequate response. To be fair, her behavior might’ve had a little to do with Jan’s sexuality. Sara was well aware that she was a bit of a flirt, and she deliberately suppressed that trait around Jan to avoid sending the wrong message. But non-flirtatious politeness wasn’t _mean_ , right? Had she tried too hard to seem uninterested? 

Not that she could say any of that out loud. She settled on, “No! Fuck, no. Why would you think—my best friend on this trip is gayer than a rainbow speedo! I’m not a homophobe.” 

Either Jan didn’t believe her or she didn’t actually care, because she sort of just glossed over the answer. “Sure, yeah, whatever,” she shrugged. “Just, like, sometimes I’ll talk to you and you’re nice, but then I’m tryna have a conversation with you here, and you’re like…”

“I’m just having…” Sara tensed against the heaviness between her ribs. “I’m having a bad day. It’s not personal. Sorry?” 

“Yo, why’d you sleep with Ryan?”

The non sequitur ground Sara’s frantic thoughts to a halt. 

“Because he’s, like, down here,” Jan continued, “and you’re way up here…”

She hadn’t done anything wrong. 

There she was, beating herself up for not being enough of a ray of sunshine every waking minute of the damn day, when she had nothing to be sorry for. Jan had obviously correctly interpreted her lack of romantic interest for what it was and chosen to attempt a different approach instead of accepting it. 

The accusation of being a cunt still had Sara somewhat paralyzed, and her desire not to give it any validity kept her from just storming off. Instead, she waited desperately for an out while slogging through the conversation. She noncommittally shrugged off questions about Ryan, which garnered an, “Are you definitely straight?” that made her blood boil. 

Every so often, Jan would insist that she was “just trying to be friendly,” as if to remind Sara to feel bad about her supposed bitchiness toward this beacon of altruistic kindness. Ha. This girl—woman, really, because she was almost thirty—was trying to guilt Sara into sleeping with her. It was the skeeviest thing she’d ever experienced. 

It was a little bit pitiful, too.

“Oh, there you are!”

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Sara was positive she’d never felt such relief. She had a savior. Sure, this could be out of the frying pan and into the fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She looked up, grinning widely, and the enthusiasm of her responding, “Hey, you!” couldn’t have been more convincing if she’d actually known the person. 

 _Female; olive skin; dark hair; well-dressed_ , supplied her disjointed thoughts. Something pinged in the part of her brain responsible for processing faces, but she was too preoccupied with the escape opportunity to pay attention to it. She turned back to Jan, crafting her excuse on the fly. 

“Sorry—”

“ _Nyssa_ ,” her savior helpfully whispered in her ear. The pinging got more persistent.

“—Nyssa, here, is always traveling, so we basically, like, never manage to be in the same place. We’ve been trying to meet up all day.”

It wasn’t until after verbalizing what she deemed passable bullshit that Sara finally registered the pinging. At which point she promptly forgot how to breathe for a few seconds too long. Because the woman whose body heat she was suddenly acutely aware of against her shoulder was the daughter of one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. 

“Yes,” her white knight—fucking Nyssa al Ghul!—was adding in a voice smooth as velvet. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I steal this one away? We’ve so much catching up to do. Don’t we, beloved?” 

Narrowly avoiding choking on her own saliva, Sara nodded in agreement and barely spared Jan a backward glance as she scrambled to follow the swaying hips of her new savior-friend. When her eyes landed on said hips, it occurred to her that missing out on the hot bartender had to be a blessing in disguise.

Yes, the hot bartender was…hot, obviously. But, contrary to popular belief, “hot” wasn’t Sara’s type. No, her type was more of the tall, dark and mysterious variety, and Nyssa was…

Getting too far ahead, actually. 

“Hey,” Sara said over the noise of the beer hall. She lengthened her stride to compensate for her shorter stature. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No woman should suffer at the hands of drunk and unwanted suitors.”

“Seriously,” Sara grunted, squeezing past a small crowd to get to where Nyssa had stopped beside an empty table. “I was totally dying there.” 

Nyssa tilted her head slightly and studied Sara before saying, “We are out of her line of sight, so you’re free to go. I would avoid the bar for a time, though, should you wish to maintain your cover.” 

“Oh.” It came out sounding a bit more downcast than Sara intended, but, in her defense, she hadn’t expected this encounter to end so quickly. She should have known, though. Nyssa was a person of status; she probably had better things to do than—

“Of course, you are more than welcome to stay,” Nyssa offered, sounding surprised that Sara might want that. “I certainly would not object to the company.” 

Grinning, Sara kicked at the table leg instead of sitting down right away. “Are you sure? You’ve already done enough for me. If you want to be left alone…”

Nyssa sat down on one of the wooden benches. “I would hardly have offered if I did not mean it,” she pointed out, gesturing across from her. “Sit.”

Sara slid onto the opposite bench and laughed, “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s obviously a lot of potential to continue this, but I’m way too busy to even consider starting another multi-chapter story. So…convince me.


	2. getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara gets to know her savior

Before either of them could say anything more, a waiter appeared and set two steins in front of them. “From the men over there,” he informed them in his heavy German accent, indicating a pair of young men two tables down from theirs. He was gone before Sara finished rolling her eyes.

“We haven’t even been here a minute,” Nyssa exclaimed in shock.

“I’m not surprised,” Sara offered suavely. “You’re even more gorgeous in person.”

Nyssa’s response was only to blush, but, when Sara lifted one of the glasses to her lips, she objected, “You’re not going to drink that, are you?”

“Why not? It’s here, and it’s beer.”

“You might give them the wrong idea.”

It seemed Nyssa was a lot more reserved than Sara would’ve expected. Not that she thought about Nyssa much. (Not outside of her hot, sweaty—ahem. _Anyways_.) “Hey, if they’re going to waste their money, who am I to turn down a free drink? What are we supposed to do, bring it back to them and say, “Sorry, I’m not interested in sleeping with you, so please don’t send me any more alcohol”?”

Nyssa looked mortified.

“Don’t worry so much,” Sara insisted, pushing the other beer toward her. “If they come over here, I’ll just tell them I like women.”

“You can’t do that!”

Sara blinked dumbly, because she actually sounded serious. “What? Why?”

“Because it’s not fair to queer people. It perpetuates a terrible cliché that women are only using that line to get away from men they are not interested in. And then, when real lesbian women clarify their sexuality, men accuse them of lying.”

“Um…”

“Sorry,” Nyssa breathed, immediately looking embarrassed again. It was a cute look on her. “I didn’t mean to attack you. I’m not usually so…”

“Social justice warrior-y? Don’t worry about it; if it’s important to you, it’s important to you.” The corner of Sara’s mouth tilted into a lopsided smile. “But, Nyssa?” She waited for the brunette to meet her eyes. “I _am_ a queer person.”

If possible, Nyssa’s cheeks got pinker. “Oh,” she whispered, and Sara had to strain to hear her. “I thought—that girl asked if you were definitely straight.”

“Yeah, I haven’t exactly told everyone in my tour group. Sorta because I didn’t want to deal with what you just saved me from, actually. I’m bi, by the way, but I really do prefer women, so…”

That was the point where most straight women hurriedly professed their heterosexuality. Given what she’d heard from Laurel and the internet, Sara expected the same from this situation, but Nyssa was apparently committed to defying all of her expectations, because what she got instead was another, “Oh,” and, “my apologies.”

Granted, what Sara knew for a fact about Nyssa al Ghul pretty much started and ended with what you’d find in the sidebar of a Wikipedia page: twenty-three years old; Middle Eastern descent; older sister named Talia; was expected to take over for her father someday. For a public figure, Nyssa was a fairly private person, so everything else was more or less inferred from her social media footprint, which she kept neutral and impersonal. Which Sara understood. Having your life under constant scrutiny had to be exhausting. What she didn’t understand was the number of times a child of Ra’s al Ghul had apologized to her in a matter of minutes. One would expect a man like that to teach his children to walk right over everyone. That was how business worked, right? Why was Nyssa acting so timid?

Sara waved her off anyway, then glanced up and sighed, “You were right. They’re coming over here. Hold your ground; I’ll take care of it.” She stood up and moved to meet the guys halfway. As she got closer, she noticed that one of them had Greek letters on his t-shirt. American frat boys? Perfect.

“Hey,” she said amicably, “thanks for the drinks.”

“Glad you like ‘em,” replied the one wearing the Lambda Chi letters.

“Listen, guys, I’m gonna level with you.” Sara leaned up on her toes, keeping her voice low enough that Nyssa had no chance of overhearing, but the boys would still understand her over the hall noise. She snuck a peek back at Nyssa, who was watching them curiously. “You see how hot she is?”

“Obviously.”

“And you are, too,” added the other guy.

Sara pursed her lips. “So, I need you guys to be bros, alright? I need you to have my back, because I think I’ve got a chance to close.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Lambda Chi marveled, and Sara held back a laugh at how quickly she'd gone from target to one of the boys. “That’s Nyssa al Ghul.”

“I know. And, if I pull, I’ll be a legend.”

He grinned. “Okay, okay. We gotchu.”

Sara shook his hand, cheekily saluted the both of them, and turned back toward Nyssa. Of course, she didn’t really expect anything to happen. She was hovering at eighty percent sure Nyssa was straight and, either way, she wouldn’t make a move unless she got some kind of sign from her first. As a woman, she knew exactly how frustrating it was to feel like people only talked to her because they wanted sex, not because they were interested in what she had to say.

When she plopped back into her seat, Nyssa frowned and asked, “What on earth did you say to those boys? They don’t even appear upset.”

“Oh, you know,” Sara said vaguely. “I appealed to their bro-ness.”

Nyssa didn’t seem satisfied by that response, but she changed the subject anyway. “Speaking of things I should know…you have me at a disadvantage. I still do not know your name.”

“Right, sorry! I’m Sara Lance.”

She stuck her hand out across the table, then immediately second-guessed herself, because who does that? She held it there, though. Surely hand shaking was the sort of thing people did in Nyssa’s circle. Then again, she didn’t want to seem like she was trying to be someone she wasn’t, or, worse, like she was mocking them.

“You were fine before you started thinking too hard about how to pronounce your own name,” Nyssa chuckled.

Sara laughed, too, and dropped her hand back into her lap.

“That’s better. And thank you for joining me, Sara Lance. You’ve already made this evening exceedingly more interesting than anything else I’ve done today.”

Sara’s ego eagerly devoured the boost, but, “I’m the most exciting thing about your day? What were you doing before, watching paint dry?”

“Very nearly,” Nyssa laughed. “Business meeting.”

“So you’re here on business?”

“I was, but I am now free.”

The relief in those words made Sara grin. When she’d first heard that Nyssa al Ghul was getting a lot of attention on social media, Sara had written her off as yet another one of those “rich kids of Instagram.” That had lasted until she’d found out that not only did Nyssa take near all those beautiful photos herself, she also seemed to dislike flashy, nouveau riche assholery just as much as Sara; Nyssa’s photos revealed only that she worked hard and traveled a lot.

For all Sara knew, Nyssa actually did care about status in her private life—after all, Oliver Queen recently tweeted a selfie with her in a fancy restaurant, captioned, “Helping Dad close deals be like…[laughing while crying emoji]”—but she wanted to believe that wasn’t the case.

“Free?” she chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Nyssa, however, frowned. “If you are expecting me to be anything like my sister, you’ll be disappointed,” she cautioned.

Back in the dark ages, before millennials turned social media into a legitimate professional platform, Talia al Ghul had made the tabloids her personal Instagram story. Unlike the child stars and pop princesses she shared pages with, Talia, wild child though she was, had always managed to keep her head and her wardrobe in tact. That was why Sara hadn’t been surprised when she settled down with Bruce Wayne, former party boy and womanizer, and the couple transformed into poised adults.

Sara snorted. “If I wanted to get blackout, I’d have left here ages ago. All they serve is beer, pretzels, and pasta. It’s, like, designed for hangover prevention.”

The brunette across from her smirked, and, to Sara’s silent delight, picked up the other beer.

“So this is your idea of a relaxing evening, then?”

“Well, it’s not exactly Netflix and chill, but I don’t have to slaughter my vocal cords to have a conversation, and physical contact with sweaty strangers has been minimal, so…”

“You and I have very different thresholds for what we consider relaxing.”

“Mhm,” Sara hummed. “What’s yours?”

Instead of answering, Nyssa wrinkled her nose. “That sweaty strangers are something you would tolerate on any occasion is beyond me.”

“Speaking of…” Sara pushed up from her seat a little for a better vantage point. A cursory scan of the tables around them revealed that only a handful of people had noticed them. “I’m kinda surprised you don’t have a security detail.”

“I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”

Sara didn’t flinch at the sharp response; she merely pointed out, “Yeah, but you’re only human, not, like, a ninja, right? What if there’s a mob or a nut job or something?”

“I’m the youngest daughter of a businessman,” Nyssa volleyed back dryly, “not a Kardashian.”

Despite herself, Sara snickered. But, “You’ve got five _million_ Instagram followers.”

“Yes, well…” Nyssa frowned, pursed her lips as if preparing to explain herself, then suddenly smirked. “I suppose I should be less critical of Sarab, because I thought he was terribly obvious.”

Sara’s eyes widened, and she twisted to look in the direction that Nyssa’s gaze had flickered towards. Sure enough, a fit—though not conspicuously muscled—man in a black t-shirt was sitting at a nearby table, watching them almost unwaveringly.

“You should be more mindful of your surroundings,” Nyssa advised, amusement written clearly across her expression.

“Has he been here, watching you, the whole time?” asked Sara, awed. She rested her forearms on the table and leaned in.

“Yes. And more than likely cursing internally since the moment I decided to engage with a stranger in such a crowded environment.”

“Do you not usually save women from random jerks? Now I feel special.”

“I don’t often have occasion to,” Nyssa admitted. “As you may have guessed, this is not my usual “scene.” I’m here tonight because of a text from my father that I should “get out more,” and because it would be a shame to miss out on such a staple of German culture.”

Sara leaned forward a bit more and grinned. “I guess I’m grateful to your dad for being a nag.” She paused, then, realizing how close she’d gotten, and had to stop herself from looking at Nyssa’s bodyguard. “Okay, it’s kinda weird, now that I know he’s watching us.”

“That is how I feel constantly,” Nyssa replied sourly.

“Let me guess…your dad insists?”

Nyssa seemed surprised, and Sara was excited to be able to relate to her. She’d probably had this exact conversation with Tommy just a few weeks ago. Not to mention, when it came to overprotective dads, “Mine’s a cop,” she revealed. “It’s annoying sometimes, but I guess I can’t blame ‘em. I mean, we just met and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, so I can’t imagine how your dad feels.”

“You don’t?”

“Want anything bad to happen to you?”

Eyebrows still pulled together in incredulity, Nyssa nodded.

“Optimistically, I don’t want bad things to happen to anyone,” Sara said thoughtfully as she studied Nyssa’s reaction closely. “But, yeah, you. I feel like you’re worth the extra line of defense.”

A familiar voice caught Sara’s attention, and she whipped around to see Kyle and Laurie approaching.

“Girl,” Kyle cried, “we thought you’d been kidnapped!”

A step behind him, Laurie laughed at the melodrama. Sara grinned back at them, then righted herself and reached across the table. Her hand snapped back immediately.

“Hey, you shocked me!” she giggled, shaking the tingles out before replacing her hand. Nyssa’s fingers twitched when her warm palm landed across them. “Just a sec, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” Without waiting for a response, she twisted again and leaned over the back of the bench. But she left her hand over Nyssa’s, and the other girl didn’t pull away.

“You alright?” Laurie asked. “Robert said he saw one of mine looking cornered at the bar.”

“Aw, he’s looking out for your kiddies for you,” Sara teased.

“Shut up.”

Kyle cocked his head, and Sara relented, “I’m fine. I was saved…” She laughed at his raised eyebrow. “Ha, not like that! If all the bad girls are going to hell, why would I not want to be there, too?” She high-fived Kyle.

“Only you two would think of eternal damnation as an opportunity to get laid.” Laurie rolled her eyes. “We’re leaving, Sara.”

“I think I’m gonna stick around a bit longer,” Sara decided. She felt the tendons under her fingertips finally relax.

It was then that Kyle noticed who she was sitting with. His eyes went comically wide, and he leaned in to whisper in Sara’s ear, “You’re sitting with me on the bus tomorrow, and you’re going to tell me _everything_.”

“Huh?”

“Jesus, your gaydar really is shit, isn’t it?”

“Wait, what?”

Ignoring her, Kyle straightened up, pitched to the side, and gave Nyssa a cheeky wave. “ _Big_ fan,” he said, grinning oh so innocently. “Come along, Laurie. It’s time for us to go.”

“But—” Laurie blinked in bafflement. “Wait—”

“Come along. I’m tired.”

“But—” She resisted Kyle, who was practically dragging her away. “Sara—”

“I’m good,” Sara replied with a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, Laur. Go, before he decides to try and throw you over his shoulder.” She turned around to face Nyssa once again, chuckling at the fading sound of Laurie and Kyle bickering as they left.

Nyssa’s phone was in her hand, the display lit up as it vibrated gently. Even upside down, Sara instantly recognized the face filling the screen. Her heart sank, only to be filled with petty satisfaction when Nyssa declined the call and fumbled to put the phone away. It occurred to Sara that the awkwardness of the motions might’ve been owed to the fact that she was probably a righty and her right hand was still beneath Sara’s.

Removing her hand, lest it get weird, Sara reluctantly asked, “Are you sure you don’t have to take that?”

“No,” Nyssa denied. “It’s nothing important.”

Oh, he’d _hate_ that—being called unimportant.

“Fuckin’ Ollie,” Sara mumbled. At her companion’s raised eyebrow, she explained, “So, funny story…We grew up together. He and my sister used to date before the Queens left Star—some kind of fallout with the Merlyns, I think. Anyway, they were together for years, then one day he was gone without a word to Laurel.”

“Oh.” Nyssa’s forehead creased in concentration. “You’re _that_ Sara Lance.”

“Huh?”

“That is, Oliver may have mentioned you once or twice, but, _Laurel Lance?_ ” Nyssa dragged her index finger around the rim of her stein. “He talks about her quite often, when he gets drunk.”

Damnit.

“Sorry,” Sara said hurriedly, annoyed with herself, Oliver, and, weirdly, Mr. Merlyn, for being the flap of butterfly wings that put Oliver in Nyssa’s orbit. “That must be weird for you. I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, no, the rumors about that sort of Lazarus-Queen merger are unfounded. I merely wonder what it’s like to care so much for someone that, even years later, they remain your first thought when inhibitions are stripped away.”

“He didn’t even care enough to say goodbye,” Sara objected, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry, that’s not the point.”

Nyssa frowned. “Sometimes, people find goodbyes too hard precisely because they do care, no?”

Sara shrugged. “Way I see it, there’s only two reasons not to say goodbye. First is that you just don’t care enough to consider that it’ll hurt the other person.”

“And the second?”

“The second…the second is if you plan on coming back to them.”

Sara let that sink in for a moment.

“But how ‘bout we talk about something other than my sister’s love life? Tell me, how’d you get into photography?”

As it turned out, Nyssa had a hell of a lot to say about that. Sara found herself with both elbows on the table, leaning in, fully engrossed. Her eyebrows shot up at the story of a photojournalism class with Daily Planet photographer Jimmy Olsen back in undergrad.

“You’re kidding,” Sara gushed. “Does this mean I’m, like, two degrees of separation from Lois Lane? I’m, like, _obsessed_ with her.” She snickered at the look on Nyssa’s face. “Not that way. She’s just such a badass. I wanna be her friend.”

“Well, if you ever do run into her, you can tell her that you know someone who was in one of her pal Jimmy’s classes. I’m sure she’ll be instantly inclined to befriend you.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Sara gasped in mock affront.

Nyssa smiled. “I would never do such a thing. Now, tell me, Sara Lance, what is your raison d’être?”

“I’m studying criminology. I want to be a cop. A detective, actually.”

“Ah, a defender of the innocent.”

Sara blushed. Nyssa had hit on exactly what she dreamt of becoming. “It’s kind of a family calling,” she said, to undercut the wannabe hero image. “Laurel’s a lawyer. One of the do-gooder ones.”

“And your father is a police officer,” Nyssa noted, showing that she was paying attention.

“Uh, yeah. Technically, he’s a captain. And my mom’s a professor, before you ask. She’s got a different approach to saving the world.”

Nodding approvingly, Nyssa remarked, “Knowledge is power.”

That led to a discussion about business that Sara never could’ve predicted herself being a part of, especially not with Nyssa al Ghul. Who, by the way, actually touched her arm at one point. As in full palm on the bare skin of Sara’s forearm for a whole ten seconds. It was an adorable, polite preface to telling Sara how wrong she was, but it felt like a big deal.

The beer hall crowd was beginning to thin out dramatically all around them. In keeping with the night’s theme of complete absurdity, the female bartender had returned at some point and was casting disappointed pouts in Sara’s direction as she bused tables. Sara gave her a sheepish smile, then avoided further eye contact. Somehow, an amicable goodbye with Nyssa on the cobblestone outside was more appealing than a one night stand with an attractive German stranger. 

“I hate to say it, but I think it’s time to go,” she told Nyssa. “Looks like they’re getting ready to start kicking people out.”

“So it would seem.”

Both young women cast speculative gazes around the hall, reluctant to leave their corner of contentment. Sara stood when Nyssa did and walked with her towards the entrance. She pretended not to notice Sarab trailing behind them. “This was fun, though,” she said, dragging her feet a little. “I’m really glad I met you.”

Nyssa’s responding smile pressed a small, glowing ember into Sara’s heart. She’d made the right choice. 

“Perhaps we can meet up again tomorrow,” the brunette offered, holding the door for her.

Joy and disappointment in equal measures burned through Sara. “I’d love to,” she replied. “I really would. But my bus leaves for Paris first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.”

The heavy door swung shut after them, and Nyssa crossed her arms against the sudden chill of an overcast evening in Munich. She frowned deeply.

“I suppose that means you should be heading back to your hotel.”

“Actually, I’m already packed, and I can sleep during the seven hour bus ride, so I’m good for a few more hours, if you are. Thing is, my hotel doesn’t have much of a lobby, and my room barely fits the twin bed.”

Uncuffing her sleeves for warmth, Sara watched an internal debate contort Nyssa’s features. The other woman’s expression remained characteristically serious, but, to Sara’s relief, she nodded curtly and said, “I have plenty of space.”

They stood in silence. Finally, Nyssa, who had been frowning attentively at an empty bike rack, shifted her attention to stare expectantly at Sara, who stared expectantly right back.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Sara asked, grinning. “Was there a question for me in there? ‘Cause all I heard was you gloating about your fancy digs.”

Nyssa pursed her lips against a smile. “You’re quite a pain, aren’t you?”

Sara shrugged, still grinning.

“Fine. Sara Lance, would you like to accompany me to my “fancy digs,” for a nightcap?”

“I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, now I have all these ideas. This AU has so much potential. Do we want more?
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention this before, but I’m something of a stickler for accuracy, especially when it comes to dialogue. As an American, I have only second-hand knowledge of the slang and speech patterns of other English-speaking countries. Since there are a number of characters from those other countries in this story, please let me know if I ever miss the mark. 
> 
> Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> There’s obviously a lot of potential to continue this, but I’m way too busy to even consider starting another multi-chapter story. So…convince me.
> 
> NB -  
> Part of me wants to see Sara and Nyssa back together ASAP, but I’d almost prefer that the writers not have an opportunity to ruin my ship. I think what I really want is a reunion at the very end of the show—or whenever Sara decides to retire from the Legends. Sara walks into her apartment/hotel/clocktower, and Nyssa’s there waiting for her. Sara’s completely unsurprised, except…  
> “Why do you have a bird?”  
> And Nyssa replies, deadass, “Sin got bored at the jewelers, so we went to the pet store, instead. Welcome home.”  
> Fade to black, roll credits, and that’s all, folks.


End file.
